


More Than a Feeling

by muzzleofbees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzzleofbees/pseuds/muzzleofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve got to go.” Dean’s voice is gruff, his eyes flinty. They’re standing on the road, not far from the bunker, and Dean looks like he’s ready to fight in the sun’s dying light. Cas doesn’t understand. </p>
<p>“Dean, please.” </p>
<p>“Cas, I’m not messing around here. I can drive you back to Lebanon, at least you’ll get there before dark.” </p>
<p>“Dean, if I’ve done something--” </p>
<p>“Damnit, Cas, this is not up for discussion. You’ve painted a target on us. We’ve got every pissed off angel from here to Timbuktu hunting you down, and I can’t be having that. Not now. Not with--” </p>
<p>“Not with what, Dean?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than a Feeling

Cas carefully counted five dollars and forty-eight cents from the money Dean had given him  for his coffee and grilled cheese sandwich, afraid to meet the young woman’s eyes, even though she was the reason he’d returned to this particular diner when he could have gotten a sandwich anywhere. She touched the back of his hand, forcing him to lift his gaze, and as their eyes met, she smiled and shook her head.

 

“It’s on me, hon.”

 

“Thank you, but as you can see, I have money.”

 

Her chuckle was low, a little throaty, and warm. She folded his fingers over his palm and held his hand. “I do see that, but I think you should hold on to it. You need it more than me. Besides, I’ve had good tips.”

 

Cas nodded,  touched by her kindness. She had no reason to be kind to him. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know who he was or what he’d been, and yet, she liked him. Cas had nothing to give her, nothing at all in this world to offer--the clothes on his back weren’t even his--and yet, she still said, “Glad you're not long gone by now.”

 

“I have no where to go,” he confessed.  Why was his throat suddenly scratchy? What was the tightness in his jaw and the tingling in his eyes. Physically, he was well. Or at least, he thought he was. He never felt like this when he wore a vessel, but now that he possessed a body, it seemed like something hurt at all times.

 

“Plans fell through?” She asked with a sympathetic smile.

 

“Yes, they did.”

 

“That’s a bitch.”

 

Cas swallowed hard, nodding. He hoped she would be hospitable, and at least offer him her couch, because he didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t know how to tell her that he’d been cast out twice, once from the only home he’d ever known, and once from the only home he’d ever wanted, and now he just needed a safe place to sleep, to rest and gain equilibrium, and time to formulate a plan.

 

“Why don’t I pack another sandwich for you?”

 

Not at all what he was hoping for, but still enough to overwhelm his increasingly frayed emotions. He nodded and murmured a thanks, touched all over again by her kindness.

 

He’d come in just before she closed the door and flipped the sign. Now he heard the kitchen staff washing dishes and preparing  to leave for the night, but she didn’t think anything of disappearing behind the door, emerging only a few minutes later with two plastic bags, each with two styrofoam containers.

 

“Thanks, Early! I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Drive safe.”

 

“Early packed a little extra for me tonight.” Nora paused before unlocking the door, turning around to give him a questioning smile. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

 

“I…” He took a deep breath, nearly staggered by the smile, the simple question. He could kiss her feet, he was so thankful. Instead he hastened to her side and took the bags from her fingers, freeing her to unlock the door. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s the Christian thing to do, right?”

 

“It may be, but many wouldn’t follow your example, even if they followed your beliefs.”

 

“Lucky you found me then.”

 

“Yes,” he said with complete sincerity. Meeting her at been an extraordinary piece of luck, though he didn’t recognize it at the time. That morning, he had been with the Winchesters, absorbed by the fact of Dean. Dean finding him, Dean hugging him, Dean smiling at him every time their eyes met like he was just as flummoxed and giddy as Cas.  

 

He thought...well, he thought many things. Apparently they’d all been in error. Cas didn’t know what to think anymore. Didn’t know what to believe in. Was there anything left to believe in, with the gates of Heaven closed, and his wings gone, and Dean Winchester turning his back to him?

 

She unlocked the passenger door of a battered green Civic and gestured him inside. It smelled faintly of cigarettes and perfume--nothing like the Impala--and when she started it, the engine made more of a pleasant hum than a full-throated roar.

 

“You can turn on the radio, if you want.”

 

“Thank you.” But he made no move towards the dial. He didn’t mind the silence.

 

She gave him a sidelong look. “I don’t do this, you know.”

 

“You don’t do what?”

 

“Take strange men home with me.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I mean...this is just a little unusual.”

 

“If you are uncomfortable or wish to retract your invitation, I will understand.”

 

“No, you definitely don’t make me uncomfortable. And don’t worry, I never go back on my word.”

 

Cas sucked his breath in and looked out the window. It was funny to think that it’d only been ten hours since he passed by the same buildings, secure in the backseat of Dean’s car. Surrounded by the smell of leather and Dean, watching the wind blow through Sam’s hair and listening to Boston and feeling happy for the first time in...ever. Now it seemed as impossible and surreal as his human nightmares.

 

He wanted to believe Nora, that she didn’t go back on her word, but the abrupt shift in Dean still had him reeling. If he could go back on his word so easily, what would stop this stranger from doing the same? He had to be careful, had to make sure he didn’t weird her out, or do anything that might be considered rude or inappropriate. Unfortunately, he knew that he often came across as rude or inappropriate.

 

She didn’t live far from the diner, just on the outskirts of town in a small, box-shaped house. The yard was also box shaped, and tiny, but the grass was neatly trimmed, and rose plants lined the walkway to the door. He followed her up that path, carrying the bags and taking in the quiet neighborhood. There were lights in most of the windows, the faint hum of television sets, punctuated by the occasional dog bark. He craned his neck up to the stars, saddened when he remembered they were just tiny points of light now, and not the infinite beauty of the ever expanding cosmos. Well, they were still that. He just couldn’t see it anymore.

 

“Just go ahead and put those on the table,” she instructed, once they were inside, the door closed and locked behind them. Of course, she didn’t bother with laying a line of salt, or putting up demonic wards, or any other sensible precaution Dean and Sam did as a matter of course. Perhaps he could do it once she slept? Or would it be wise to make the offer now?

 

“Do you have salt?”

 

She cocked her head. “Why? You haven’t even tasted the food yet.”

 

“I meant for the door.”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

 

The question caught him off guard and he blurted the truth, “No, I am not.”

 

“Yeah...that’s what I thought. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

 

He perched on the edge of her couch, on the far end, his elbows on his knees, his eyes locked on the floor. What was Dean doing at that moment? The question added a new twinge to his chest, but he couldn’t push it from his mind. He didn’t know how to think about anything--anybody--else.

 

When Nora returned, she’d changed into a pair of sweats and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, her hair hanging in a loose curtain around her shoulders, a bottle of beer in each hand. He accepted his with a small nod, sighing softly as the cold liquid touched his parched lips. He was always so thirsty. It seemed like he couldn’t drink enough water or coffee, but the cold beer brought him a small sense of pleasure.

 

“Thank you. This is very good.”

 

“You look like you needed it.”

 

Cas nodded. “Yes, quite a bit.”

 

“So...do you want to talk about it?”

 

“The beer?”

 

“No, you and that guy I saw you with today. I mean, I don’t want to pry, and if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. But everybody needs a shoulder, you know?”

 

Cas stared at her blankly. “A shoulder?”

 

“To cry on.”

 

“I do not think I will be reduced to tears,” Castiel said with more confidence than he actually felt. He must have been pretty transparent to her because she gave him a look full of pity.

 

“You can tell me what happened. I’ve been there, you know.”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

“Try me. I’ve been through a lot of shit in my day.”

 

“He...told me to come home. That he needed me,” Cas said slowly, surprised that he was divulging even that much. But as soon as he uttered the words, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his heart. It hurt to say them, it hurt even more to hear them out loud, but he no longer felt like he was choking to death on them. “And then he...changed.”

 

“Changed what? His mind?”

 

“I believe so, yes. He told me I needed to leave and gave me some money. I thought...I had no where else to go, but I remembered…” He lifted his head, and found himself ensnared by her large, green eyes. Eyes that were almost the color of a golden spring. Eyes that almost reminded him of Dean’s. “I remembered you.”

 

She laughed a little. “What was so memorable about me?”

 

“Your smile. It’s very kind. And the food at the diner is acceptable.”

 

“I’ll make sure to pass your compliments on to the chef. Are you hungry?”

 

“No, I believe I’ll save my portion for later. But if you are hungry, you should eat.”

 

She shook her head. “No. I need a break from the sight of food when I get home. I’ll heat it up later.” She moved a little closer to him. “Let me know if you need another beer.”

 

“I will,” Cas promised solemnly.

 

“You should forget about that jerk, you know. If he doesn’t want you, it’s his loss.”

 

“Dean’s not a--” The defense came hotly to his lips but died off just as quickly. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to defend Dean--he didn’t know how he could. But he knew he would never, ever forget Dean. Not if he lived for another hundred years and experienced all the pleasures and pains this world had to offer a human.

 

She touched the back of his hand. It was the second time she touched him that night, but it felt different. That had been a friendly, short moment of contact. Now, she lingered. And Cas didn’t understand much about human interaction, but he understood the weight of that slight moment. He didn’t pull his hand away. He liked the warmth.

 

He liked it a lot.

 

He covered her hand with his, pressing for more heat, searching her face desperately. She didn’t appear to be joking--she wasn’t smiling, but her face was soft, her glittering green eyes still kind. He pulled away and she let his fingers slip from hers with a small squeeze. He stood, confused and suddenly a little restless. Her eyes widened, and he saw a flash of hurt there and realized he’d messed up, somehow.

 

The way he messed everything up.

 

Perhaps that was the reason why Dean had sent him away. Perhaps he got tired of dealing with Castiel’s mistakes--the mistakes that had cost Dean so much of what little he had in the world. Each sin weighed heavily on Castiel’s soul, and losing his grace didn’t soften the vivid detail of each mistake and betrayal. And now he could add this lovely woman to his list. This kind soul who had done nothing but show him hospitality and concern.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…I’m sorry.”

 

You’re always sorry, Cas.

 

He swallowed, his throat thick, his tongue impossibly dry. “I’ll go if….”

 

“Do you want to go?” She asked quickly.

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

“Then you don’t have to go. Have a seat. Take your shoes off, relax. I’ll go in the other room and give you time to think, okay?”

 

He nodded, feeling thankful and miserable--so back to what passed for normal. She gave him a small, inscrutable smile and excused herself, leaving him to sink back down to the couch and do as she said, taking his shoes off.

 

As soon as she was gone, he missed her. Alone with nothing between himself and his endless thoughts of Dean. He’d rather hear her soft voice than the four words that still echoed in his ears.

 

You’ve got to go.

 

He didn’t want to be alone.

 

He’d never been so alone, not even in the final terrible days before he succeeded in opening Purgatory. Not even when the pieces of himself were scattered and broken, put together jagged and imperfectly. Not even in Purgatory, when those jagged pieces aligned themselves, and he knew he had to protect Dean in the only way he could. By fleeing. At least in Purgatory, he had the bittersweet comfort of Dean’s prayers.

 

Now he feared he would never hear Dean’s voice again.

 

Finally, too exhausted to hold himself, he collapsed to the side and curled into a ball. He felt sick in his stomach. What did that mean? Was he hungry? No, this wasn’t a hunger pang. It was something sharper. He didn’t know what to do about it. All he knew was that thinking about Dean made it worse.

 

He couldn’t stop, though. Why did he have so little control over himself now? He contained the knowledge of the cosmos, and yet, every second that passed was fully dedicated to Dean, to reliving those last few hours.

 

He needed a break. But even sleep didn’t free him. His thoughts turned into dreams he couldn’t escape. The harder he fought it, the more they held him, until those hours shrunk to the last minute.

 

_“You’ve got to go.” Dean’s voice is gruff, his eyes flinty. They’re standing on the road, not far from the bunker, and Dean looks like he’s ready to fight in the sun’s dying light. Cas doesn’t understand._

 

_“Dean, please.”_

 

_“Cas, I’m not messing around here. I can drive you back to Lebanon, at least you’ll get there before dark.”_

 

_“Dean, if I’ve done something--”_

 

_“Damnit, Cas, this is not up for discussion. You’ve painted a target on us. We’ve got every pissed off angel from here to Timbuktu hunting you down, and I can’t be having that. Not now. Not with--”_

 

_“Not with what, Dean?” Cas takes a hopeful step forward. “What’s wrong. Tell me, and we’ll fix it together.” He says it with a sense of urgency, hoping Dean will understand that Castiel has heard him, that he does understand._

 

_Dean’s jaw tightens and he turns around and he walks away. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t look over his shoulder, he just keeps walking. Cas calls after him, his voice breaking on the third attempt, and then there’s nothing to do but walk._

 

###

 

Dean locked himself in his room and refused to come out. Sam knocked on his door once, asking him if he was alright, and it took everything Dean had not to snap back. Did they have to spend every waking second together? Couldn’t he lock himself in his own bedroom for a little alone time? Isn’t that why people had bedrooms with doors and locks on them?

 

“I’m fine. Have dinner without me,” he called back. He’d tried not to sound pissed, but Sam probably knew better.

 

“Okay, well, I’ll just leave yours on the stove.”

 

Perfectly reasonable. Thoughtful, even. Dean had never been so irritated by anything in his life. He bit down and counted to ten and Sam moved away from the door. The crisis passed. Guilt rushed in to replace the fury. What right did he have to be angry at Sammy? He hadn’t done anything.

 

He was the only innocent in this whole fucking mess.

 

Well, he and Castiel.

 

Which made him the only guilty party, and he fucking knew it, and he hated it.

 

He hated himself.

 

He’d just let Cas walk away. Just fucking walk down the fucking road to fend for himself. And it felt like the right thing to do. Of course, it was the right thing to do. Of course it was. Ezekiel had warned him more than once that angels were hunting Cas, and nothing stopped them from tracking Cas right to his front door. Sam wasn’t yet fully healed. He couldn’t risk an attack.

 

He couldn’t risk an angel recognizing Ezekiel inside of Sam.

 

He couldn’t risk an angel sword through Sam’s heart.

 

He couldn’t risk Sam learning the truth.

 

He couldn’t risk it.

 

Ezekiel had put it plainly and Dean didn’t have an argument.

 

He sat on the edge of the bed, jumped back to his feet, paced to the door and back, and thought about looking for him. He should take him to town, like he said he would, and find a place for him to sleep. He pressed all his cash in Cas’s hand, hoping it would be enough, knowing that it wasn’t, of course. It wasn’t even close to enough. He owed Cas so much more.

 

He wanted to give Cas...well, nothing he could give. Not to Castiel--not to anybody.

 

Things would be rough on Cas for awhile, but he’d land on his feet. In the long run, this was probably for the best, not just for Sam, but for Castiel as well. All he had to offer Cas was death and destruction, and that wasn’t what a new life needed.

 

The justification felt hollow.

 

_We’ll fix it together._

He turned his back on family.

 

He turned his back on his family.

 

_It’s for the best. It’s for the best._

 

But it wasn’t and he fucking knew it.

 

###

 

Nora made him breakfast, and she made him smile again, but she didn’t make him leave. He’d tried to once, but she stopped him by touching his arm.

 

“I’m not kicking you out. Look, one time, I was in the same spot, and somebody helped me out. Now it’s time to return the favor.”

 

There was more to the story, and Castiel immediately wanted to know the source of her pain so he could help her alleviate it, his own misery forgotten in his concern. “Do you want to talk about it. I could be your shoulder,” he said earnestly.

 

Her lips twitched, though he couldn’t tell if they were trying to pull into a smile, and she blinked her eyes dry. “There’s not much to talk about. I was married once. We...it wasn’t a good relationship. One night, we had a really bad fight and I left. Didn’t pack a bag. Didn’t even have my wallet. But I had a friend, and she helped me get on my feet again.”

 

“He kicked me out,” Cas blurted. It might make a difference to her. It might not make a difference to anybody at all.

 

“I don’t know why anybody would want to do that.”

 

“I have made...mistakes. He doesn’t need me anymore.”

 

“Everybody makes mistakes. But everybody can be forgiven, too. The question is, can you forgive yourself? Because until you do, you’re not going to be able to live your life.”

 

Castiel looked away, at a loss for words. He didn’t even know where to begin--how to begin.

 

They spent most of the day together, Castiel a shadow as she went about her daily chores. He dried the dishes, insisted on moving the furniture while she vacuumed, took the garbage out, and mopped the bathroom floor. He would have attempted to make her lunch, too, but she insisted he sit down while she put together a large bowl of salad.

 

Rabbit food, Cas thought with a small pang.

It was the first conscious thought of Dean in at least an hour, and the floodgates opened. His appetite immediately disappeared, and Nora didn’t miss the change in his mood.

 

“I have tomorrow off. I was thinking maybe we could look around and see if we can’t find you a room to rent.”

 

Cas shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

 

“Why? You don’t like it here?”

 

“No, I do. But…” He was only a handful of miles from the bunker. Still too close to Sam. Still too dangerous. He’d have to find his way out of town soon. He had enough money for a bus ticket to...somewhere.

 

“But what?”

 

“I don’t have enough money to rent a room.”

 

She shrugged. “Early is looking for a dishwasher. Doesn’t pay great, but it pays enough. And you get a portion of the tips. If it makes you feel better, you can stay here until you save a little up.”

 

Once again, she stunned him. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous.”

 

“Why? You don’t strike me as particularly dangerous.”

 

“I’m not.” Not anymore. “But there are angels looking for me. And they are.”

 

“There are...angels?”

 

“Yes. Do you remember the meteor shower?”

 

“Um, yes.”

 

“There are many angels who blame me for that and they are hunting me now. You have been very kind to me and I don’t want to put you in any danger. That is why I should leave.” He sighed. “The sooner the better.”

 

She opened her mouth but he never had the chance to hear her reaction. The front door crashed open and a burly man marched in with a smaller woman in his wake. Nora reacted by grabbing a butcher knife from the nearby block and marching into the living room, her phone in her other hand.

 

“Who the fuck are you? Get the fuck out of my house.”

Cas tried to place himself between her and the fallen angels, but she shoved him back with surprising force and blocked him. Her thumb moved quickly over the buttons, calling 911.

 

“Get out of the way and we won’t hurt you,” the woman said. “We’re here for Castiel. You’re of no interest to us.”

 

“Great story. Get out.” She brandished the knife a little, as if to say or I’ll stab you in the face.

 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

 

“I’m at 389 Astor St and two people just broke into my house.”

 

The phone exploded in her hand before the operator responded. She jerked in surprise, a piece of plastic catching her cheek, slicing it open just below her eye. They took advantage of her distraction, the burly angel closing the space between them and pulling his fist back. Castiel reacted without thinking, throwing himself at the assailant, tackling him to the ground. That gave Nora the chance to brace herself for the next attack, and she managed to bat the other angel away.

 

Cas grappled with his stronger opponent, relying on muscle memory though he no longer had the strength to back it up. The angel quickly gained the upperhand, pinning Cas to the ground with a thick hand around his throat. Cas tried to twist away from the tightening grip, his windpipe crushed beneath the weight, his lungs burning within seconds. He couldn’t see Nora, couldn’t hear her above the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and his vision began to darken.

 

The next thing he knew, the angel was gone and he was gasping for breath, each raw gulp of air burning through his bruised throat. He tried to climb to his feet, eyes searching for Nora in the sudden chaos around him. There were suddenly two more people, uniformed policeman, fighting with the angels. Nora stood back from the fray, blood smeared all over her face, painted across both cheeks, her mouth, down her neck. His wheezing attracted her attention, and she rushed to his side.

 

“Are you okay? Come on. Let’s get out of here.” She helped him to his feet, a protective arm around his back as she guided him through the house to the backdoor. “What the fuck? You weren’t kidding, were you?”

 

“No, I was very serious.” Cas paused at the door. “They’re going to kill them.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I mean, they will kill those men.”

 

Nora looked over her shoulder. The fighting continued, but their rescuers were clearly tiring. He heard one call for backup and knew that soon a swarm would be there. Already he could hear sirens in the distance. Nora heard them, too and pulled him away from the house. He was still gasping and wheezing. Had he suffered real damage? Human bodies were so vulnerable, what was he supposed to do?

 

“What’s happening? Nora? Honey, are you okay?”

 

An elderly woman with shortly cropped gray hair came out of the house to the left of them, a baseball bat in hand. Two more cop cars rounded the block just as the neighbor saw the blood on Nora’s face.

 

“I’ll live. You should get back inside. There could be more of them.”

 

Cas opened his mouth to agree, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all he could make was a raspy groan, and Nora’s attention widened in alarm. She changed course, dragging him towards the oncoming ambulance. The ambulance came to a hard stop and two EMTs jumped out, hurrying towards them. A window shattered behind them, and then there was nothing but heavy silence. Two cops jumped out of their cruiser and rushed inside, weapons drawn.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Cas whispered.

 

“Shh. Don’t. Rest your throat.”

 

But he couldn’t stop. Not once he found his voice. The words poured out of him again and again. “I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry….”

#

 

There weren’t allowed to return to the house for another six hours. After the EMTs finished with them, Nora’s neighbor Mary insisted them come inside for a cup of tea. And then they had to give their statements. Fortunately, Castiel was under strict orders not to speak, and Nora managed to give the story without mentioning any of the unfortunate, angel-related truth. The two attackers had simply disappeared. Nobody knew how or where they went--nobody remembered seeing them go.

 

Her door was busted, but Castiel found some wood, nails, and a hammer in the backyard shed, and he managed to board it shut. When he came back inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re definitely not going anywhere, so don’t even start with me.”

 

“It’s dangerous,” he whispered.

 

“There must be something you can do. Something to keep you safe?”

 

“Wards.”

 

“Wards?”

 

“On the walls. Will keep them out.”

 

“Then do it. You can’t be out in the open, wandering around with those maniacs chasing you down.” She found two magic markers and insisted she show him how to permanently mark up her walls. He carefully drew the sigils on a pad of paper and handed her the sigils, watching as she carefully, precisely, mimicked him. He nodded his approval and they spent the next hour in silence, pausing only when she needed to learn a new letter. By the time they finished, there wasn’t a bare inch of wall to be found.

 

She was visibly pleased with their progress. “Will it work?”

 

Castiel nodded. It would work. It would work well, and it was as simple as that. Dean looked at the danger they were in, and concluded Castiel had to go. Why? ? Dean’s first instinct was not too turn his back. Not after Purgatory.

 

It didn’t make sense.

 

It didn’t make any sense.

 

Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Perhaps it involved Sam. Perhaps Dean believed he had to keep the truth from him.

 

Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to takes these simple precautions for Cas. Perhaps it truly was easier, and more desirable, to send him away.

 

“Thank you. For all you’ve done.”  

 

“I’m glad I’m here to help. Now, I don’t know about you, but I need some tea. And a shot of whiskey.”

 

Castiel nodded. Yes. That did, in fact, sound perfect.

 

###

  
  


A cup of tea and a shot of whiskey turned to two shots, and then three, and then Castiel was absolutely intoxicated. It him faster than he expected, not realizing that he metabolized alcohol much slower now. She kept pace with him, shot for shot, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink and her eyes sparkling at him over the rim of her mug. They sat close to each other on the couch, and seemed to be getting closer all the time. Cas didn’t quite understand how it happened, but he felt the distance shrinking, felt the heat of her skin and her breath all around him.

 

He didn’t feel quite so cold. Quite so empty inside. He liked the way her perfumed smelled beneath the warmer, more immediate scent of the whiskey. She let herself lean against his side and he automatically lifted his arm, letting her settle in even closer as she flipped through the tv channels. He knew this position well. His time with Daphne had a surreal, heightened quality--he could remember every detail of their marriage, but none of it felt real. Not like it had happened to him.

 

Still, it wasn’t an unpleasant reminder. He’d lived well with Daphne, in their little home, despite  the constant sense that something was missing. No, not something. Somebody. Somebody very important was gone, and “Emmanuel” hadn’t been able to remember who or why.

 

He wished he could forget it now, somehow. Wished he could forget him for one single night.

 

“Do you want to watch anything?” She tilted her head back and blinked up at him. “A movie or something?”

 

“I enjoy everything on television,” Castiel answered.

 

“Everything?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I can choose any channel and you’ll be happy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What if I want to watch The Search for Spock? Do you like Star Trek?”

 

“Yes, I do.” He’d watched it with Dean more than once. He would chuckle at himself and make Castiel promise he wouldn’t mention it to Sam. One night, instead of sitting on his own bed, he threw himself down on the mattress beside Cas with a beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. Cas pretended to watch the screen, but it was impossible to follow the story while Dean’s leg was touching his. He had a soft spot for the show, though, because it always made Dean smile. Such things were rare and worth remembering.

 

“Is there any more whiskey?”

 

“A little bit.” She leaned forward, reaching for the bottle and carefully filling the shot glass they’d been sharing. His fingers brushed against hers as she passed it over, and he let himself linger over the touch before downing the shot.  Whiskey burned his nose now--it never did before--and scorched his throat and made his chest warm. She swam in his vision, and he blinked until she came into focus again.

 

“Feel better?”

 

“Quite a bit better.”

 

“Almost sorry I don’t have another bottle to share.”

 

“This is more than enough. I can’t drink as much as before.”

 

“You mean before...when you were an angel?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Big drinker back then?”

 

“At times, that seemed the only logical response.”

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

 

Her fingers twined around his. He studied the points where their skin touched, admired the way her hand fit in his.   Dean took his hand once. Held it for too long. Met his eyes and didn’t pull away, and then night fell around them, and Dean still held on. They eventually fell asleep that way, and when Cas woke up, Dean was still holding on, and Cas had wanted to weep. Had very nearly cried over the man who was determined to hold onto him and drag him out of Purgatory. And Cas hadn’t let him go. Couldn’t let him go. Didn’t believe he would ever be capable of releasing Dean’s hand.

 

Until that final second when guilt finally overwhelmed his devotion to Dean Winchester, and he found strength he didn’t know he possessed.

 

A part of him always believed he would have a second chance to make the right choice.

 

“Are you a big drinker now?” Nora asked as he made to grab for the bottle again.

 

“I might be.”

 

“It doesn’t help as much as you think it does,” she warned, but she bypassed the glass and handed him the bottle directly. Dean could finish off what was left in a single swallow, and maybe she was right. Maybe it didn’t help but did anything help?

 

At least it would make him sleep, and that was enough for now.

 

He took a deep breath and tilted his head back, drinking until it was gone and his head was on fire. She was looking at him with concern, and for the first time, he didn’t want it. He wanted, needed, something more, and he knew what to do. He knew how to cup her neck, knew how to press his mouth to hers to maximize the contact, and thus, her pleasure. His own pleasure, too, he realized once their lips touched. Her parts quickly, and he was quick to take advantage of that, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth.

 

She jerked away.  “What the hell, Cas?”

 

“I thought...you would find that...pleasurable? Was it not a good kiss?”

 

“No, it was a great kiss. But...I don’t think that’s a good idea. For now, anyway.”

 

“I understand. I’m sorry. “

 

“Don’t apologize. I know why you did it. You feel like shit and you want to stop. But...I’m your friend, and I think we both deserve better than a rebound fuck.”

 

Cas had no idea what those two words meant together, but he did what he always did when Dean said something he didn’t understand. He stared. Dean usually took his silence as confusion, but Nora took it as acceptance.

 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She surprised him by wrapping her arm around him and pulling him into a tight hug. And for a few seconds, he didn’t quite feel like shit any more.

  



End file.
